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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028078">How not to swim</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boubigolpa/pseuds/boubigolpa'>boubigolpa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>1886 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arthur is secretly nice, Drawing, Drowning, Flashbacks, John is bad at drawing, John is twelve, Orphanage, Swimming, Young John Marston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:48:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boubigolpa/pseuds/boubigolpa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer is an exiting time for young people like John, but with nothing interesting to do, it gets repetitive and boring. Maybe it’s time he tries something new?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>1886 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How not to swim</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you are my MDL teacher: namaste, no I didn't plagiarise my own work :3<br/>have a good day!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John was bored.<br/>
Summertime was usually his favorite time of the year, for the sole reason it reminded him of the only good times he had spent at the orphanage. Usually, the guardians would let the kids out a bit more than usual, and not keep such a wary eye on them. John would use this precious time to ‘bond’ with other orphans and ‘share’ their belongings with each others. </p><p>Well, he did have a few friends there, but when a farmer needed extra hands, he would pick the sturdiest of them all, and when a doe-eyed couple was looking for a loving and cute child, they would pick the youngest. John was very, very far from this. He was all skin and bones, not to mention the dark circles under his eyes gave the impression he was sick all year round, coupled with his constant bad attitude, John was probably the least likely to get adopted one day. </p><p>Not that he cared anyway. </p><p>The four years he spent there were a blur, as if his brain had wiped out most of his memories from the orphanage. But, when John concentrated enough, he could still picture the dorm, always dark, the beds creaking with every breath, the silent cries of lonely children, some even sleeping on the floor, and the backyard. </p><p>This backyard was out of place compared to the rest of the orphanage. While the inside was dark and gloomy, the outside was welcoming and stunning. The grass was the greenest thing the young child had ever seen, compared to the always brown and dirty toned one from up North. </p><p>The trees were so tall when you climbed on them, little John swore he could see the end of the world. Their leaves never fell, autumn or spring, and winter through summer, they were always stayed, smelling fresh an leaving their scents everywhere. When the grass was covered in snow and the children were forbidden from going out, John would sneak out of his room at night and go to the library, where the windows faced the backyard. </p><p>He didn’t fantasize about a lovely couple wanting him above all the others orphans like the rest, no, that was impossible. The adults had made it clear he was impossible to live with and a total disgrace, why would someone ever chose him? And why would he chose them, when he could have liberty? Landon Ricketts, Slim Grant, or even Billy Midnight seemed a lot happier than the teachers and high members of society everyone aspired to be.</p><p>The night he escaped, after weeks of planning, John found himself lost. He couldn’t seem to remember where he and his father used to live, but instead of panicking, he was as calm as he had ever been. After all, he was finally free. It was the greatest gift he ever received, and tried to make the most of it... Until it got hard, and it weren’t so nice no more. </p><p>He was lucky to be alive and safe, of course —and lord knows he had sworn himself to never, ever step foot in an orphanage again — but it was getting boring.</p><p> </p><p>John was slouched by the campfire, trying to draw a horse that more or less resembled a potato. Frustrated, he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and threw it behind him. </p><p>“What the...!“ an exasperated sigh resonated. Surprised, John turned around only to be met face to face with Arthur, looking at him with the uttermost disdain in his eyes. </p><p>“Sorry...“ the young lad muttered, avoiding the older man’s heavy gaze. Generally, when he behaved for a few days, Arthur would take John with him out in town, to pick up groceries or help moving goods the other gang members had stolen. It wasn’t the thrilling adventures he used to long for back at the orphanage, but it was a change from peeling potatoes or having to read the same three penny dreadfuls Hosea desperately tried to teach him how to read with. </p><p>He hoped Arthur would leave him be and just go on his way, but of course a twenty two year old had nothing better to do than to mess with a child minding his own business. “What do you want, kiddo?“ scoffed Arthur as John retreated in his seat, almost falling off the log that served as a bench around the campfire — where many men complained about their lives late at night, bottles in hand. </p><p>“Nothing...“ John grumbled. He tried to remain calm, knowing his chance at doing something in the next week or so was on the line. For a hothead as stubborn as John, it was a tough thing to do, to say the least. The black look on his face probably betrayed his intentions, but he liked to believe no one but him could notice it. </p><p>Arthur took the crumbled scrap of paper in his hands and examined the drawing inside. His eyes remained fixated on it for a moment, in order to try and conceal his laughter. Once he regained some sort of seriousness, he sat by John. “Did you...“ Arthur fought to contain another chuckle from escaping, “try to draw Boadicea?“ </p><p>A smile tugged on the corner of his lips, which John certainly did not miss. He glared at him, looking at his own drawing again. As much as he wanted to make Arthur feel bad for mocking him, the doodle was indeed comically <em> bad. </em> “Shut up!“ he cried, crossing his arms. </p><p>Arthur grabbed the pencil from his hand and dragged it onto the page, leaving a dark trail behind as he skillfully sketched. “You could start by drawing guidelines first; see her position right now?“ encouraged Arthur. </p><p>Boadicea, a chestnut pinto mare with the most gorgeous mane, was standing by the hitching post, mindlessly grazing the yellowing grass. Arthur always chose his horses with time and reflexion, and although they weren’t the most expensive or purest of breeds, they were his best companions on the planet. She had just turned four, and so began her mounted training. John loved her, she was exquisite — unlike Tacitus, the grumpy and aggresive mustang John had fallen off of a few weeks ago. Needless to say, he hadn’t ridden much since then, but Boadicea often nudged him for scratches when the young boy was nearby, and he always happily obliged. </p><p>“And then you just have to... <em> draw </em> what you see, it isn’ so complicated.“ Arthur continued, now hypnotised in the sketch. He hadn’t even realized John wasn’t listening anymore. The latter looked a the skilled hands moving on the page, and little by little a horse appeared. “That’s easy for you to say,“ protested John, “You’re good at it.“ </p><p>“You are <em> so </em> funny,“ Arthur guffawed as he pat John on the back, “It takes time and practice, not dumb luck.“ The young boy rolled his eyes, not fully convinced by this statement. He stood up, not sure he wanted to draw anymore. Or ever, for that matter. </p><p>“You know what, I’m gonna learn a new skill! And I’ll be better at it than you!!“ blustered John, his fists clenched. He stormed off to the bay in search of something he hadn’t quite put his fingers on, when he saw Billy Caraway, a mountain of a man who was always angry at everything. This man didn’t just kill, he slaughtered. John was pretty much terrified by the man, who appeared in his nightmares quite often, although he didn’t dare admit it to anyone. </p><p>Mr Caraway was holding a fishing rod and whistling some unknown foreign song. After staring at the man long enough to not be noticed, John decided he would become good at fishing. </p><p>“Fishing?“ inquired Hosea, whom John had gone to in search of help, “Do you even know how to swim, boy?“ Hosea stood up from he crate he had been reading The Strange case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde on, and ordered John to change in clothes he didn’t mind getting wet, promising he’d teach him everything he wanted to know about fishing after he knew how to swim properly. </p><p>The young boy was delighted, after all, swimming was one of the abilities required to be able to survive on your own in the West, not to mention it looked like a fun thing to do with a horse on hot days like today. He imagined himself a gun in one hand and the reins of the galloping horse in the other, fleeing from lawmen and jumping in nearby water to go hide and be safe. </p><p>From the gap of his tent flaps — never fully closed for an unknown reason — John noticed Hosea was talking to Arthur. He hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was going to be, but of course the elder man had asked Arthur to tag along, as per usual... </p><p>For some obscure reason, everyone in the gang had made it a mission to make Arthur and John spend as much time together as possible, on the feeble reasoning that Arthur was the youngest after him. Was everyone too bad at math to understand they had a ten years age gap? Or to see Arthur was just a bother and mean to him? </p><p>As a young adult that had just turned twenty two, Arthur had other things to think about, for example a particular waitress at the bar he always stopped at when he was in town, or annoying John... Adult things. Whereas John on the other hand was a lone wolf. He didn’t need anyone. Well, there was the hanging part, but that was just a small mishap. </p><p>“John! Are you ready?“ inquired Arthur, a mischievious grin spread across his face. He nudged at John’s shoulder, the thin boy almost tripping. They all walked to the bay, this time John less nervous about stumbling upon Mr. Caraway. </p><p> </p><p>“So, John“ Hosea started, speaking eloquently to make sure the boy understood, “Knowing how to swim is very important when you want to fish, because if you fall in the water, you need to be sure you can get out of it without relying on others“ </p><p>“Have you seriously never been in water before?“ mocked Arthur, arms crossed, “No wonder you st...“ Arthur was cut short by a strike from Hosea’s strong hand to the back of his head. It sent him a few steps away, but the young man swelled his chest with pride and crossed his arms, walking in silence.</p><p>“Well, Arthur, why don’t you show him how to do it?“ Hosea more or less demanded, nudging Arthur near the water once they found a spot where the river current wasn’t as strong. </p><p>He protested, “Why do I always end up being the one that has to teach him stuff! I don’t even remember how I learned!“ </p><p>“Because you’re ancient, old man...“ John muttered under his breath loud enough for Arthur to hear. In response, he shot him a deathly stare that caused a shiver to run down his spine and lower his head. </p><p>Hosea, not having noticed the young boy tease Arthur, continued, “If you spent all the time complaining actually helping around, I would’n ask so much of you.“ Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to come up with a solution as fast he could, “Let’s just all get in that damn water...“ he grumbled. </p><p> </p><p>A while later, all three men were in the blue river. Hosea and Arthur kept explaining the movements to John, who left less and less confident, but despite the waving of arms being too quick, he was actually getting better. </p><p>The first time his head went under water, John remembered one second too late to hold his breath. He came back up to the surface, almost chocking. Immediately, Arthur smacked his back to help him. Hosea smirked at the sight, knowing the boy was fine. When his senses got back, John smoothed a hand over his sore back and Arthur tried to mock him, as if he hadn’t just been worried about him a second ago. “Are you stupid, boy? We said not to breathe!“ </p><p>John retorted, in between coughs, “I tried! I don’t like that feeling...“ cautioned the young boy. </p><p>“No shit, you’re not a fish, just don’t breathe in water...“ gibed Arthur at John’s stupidity. “Try again,“ he instructed, this time keeping close to the boy, just in case.</p><p>This time, John felt determined. He pushed himself under the water, ready to face the river in a battle. This time, John made sure to hold his breath, he wasn’t scared of some stupid liquid, he could easily dominate it if he wanted. That’s when he started to get a bit lightheaded, and a buzz settled in his head. He got back to the surface, gasping for air as the other two men congratulated him. </p><p>“Alright John, what do you say we try to swim from one end to the other?“ asked Hosea, taking off his gun belt and handing it to Arthur. The walked to the other side together, and Hosea gave him some pieces of advice and demonstrating the movements to do underwater. John felt confident, like nothing could go wrong, after all, Hosea was by his side. </p><p>He waved his arms and legs, imitating Hosea, and felt like he was doing okay. This was it, he was swimming! The current was pushing him a little to the left, but Hosea was here to shove him right back in place. </p><p>The men went on, but the more they swam, the more John’s leg tired. He wasn’t sure the movements were still working, as John started to slowly sink in, barely able to push himself back up. </p><p>But he had to fight, He couldn’t be bad at drawing and at swimming. He pushed harder until his limbs hurt; His body went vertical against the current. He could feel the water current against him, pushing him deeper and deeper until his whole body was submerged. John held his breath for as long as he could. His eyes tightly shut started to burn. John had to breathe, but he couldn’t get back up!<br/>
“What the fuck?!“ gasped Arthur, unable to spot the young boy’s silhouette. Hosea’s head was underwater, certainly expecting John to be following him. Without hesitation, Arthur dropped everything he was holding and jumped in the freezing cold water, feeling his clothes’ weight change, making the movements harder. </p><p>Arthur swam down and finally spotted John Marston, quietly struggling for his life. He didn’t put his finger on how he had gone from swimming perfectly fine one moment to drowning as soon as he looked the other way. But now wasn’t the time for inquiries. He grabbed the boy like he was nothing and tried to push them both back to the surface. </p><p>The current was stronger, and Arthur was suddenly very aware of both the weight of his own clothes and of the boy. Pushing back up proved to be easier said than done, but a few hard kicks of his feet later, the men were back in their natural element. </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, he was back at the orphanage. He was by the windows, looking out at the trees. They were covered in snow, and John could feel the cool air, even if he was inside. The orphanage was very silent but John kept hearing the faint voices of people in the distance...</p><p>“John, John!“</p><p>He felt a light tingle at his cheek, probably a breeze coming through a crack in a wall. His clothes were hugging his body too tightly, but the thrill of being out of bed at night kept him waiting...<br/>
“Let me do it...“ </p><p>“John!!“</p><p>SLAP! </p><p>Arthur’s hand against his skin sent John right back to the bay, distinctly hearing Hosea and Arthur calling his name and shaking him. </p><p>He looked at them in disbelief, having just emerged and starting to realize where he was exactly. </p><p>When he felt like himself again, then he answered all of their questions. He felt touched that both men were so concerned about him, yet... “Whatever I do I always fail...“ he sighed. </p><p>Hosea protested, “Don’t you say that, boy, you’re still young!“ he smoothed John’s wrinkled shirt with his hand. “You can’t be good after only having tried once!“ </p><p>“But I just don’t understand! Instead of floating, I just sink!“ lamented John. </p><p>Arthur chortled, “Well that’s called natural selection, boy.“ This remark earned him another strike from Hosea and an outraged gasp from John, who couldn’t help a small smile to make its appearance on his face. Damn Morgan and his jokes sometimes...</p><p>Shortly after, John was back up on his feet, more than ready to forget this horrible experience and just sleep it off. The road back felt quicker, and Mr Caraway’s nod didn’t seem to scare the boy as much as it used to. </p><p>Which doesn’t mean he looked him in the eyes either.</p><p>John headed straight to his tent and jumped on the cot, not even bothering to change from his dripping wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin.</p><p>He knew Morgan was right behind him, of course... “You okay here?“ yawned Arthur, pushing open the flaps and leaning against the wooden structure. </p><p>John turned around, a dark look on his face: </p><p>“I’m never, <em> ever </em> swimming again.“</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love writing Arthur and John as brothers :’) it reminds me of my own relationship with my sibling... Even though we don’t have a big age gap, he always babied me. I like to believe Arthur did the same with good old Marston. Funny thing is I’m really scared of water and even more of waves, it was odd writing about people drowning. Do you have phobias?<br/>Kudos and Comments are well appreciated! ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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